Hero: A Short Story by Emleigh Wolf

HERO

By Emleigh Wolf

Melissa stared out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. The regular grocery delivery was the one time she ever got to see anyone else. She could count, on one hand, the number of faces she’d seen in the past few years, but Peter’s was her favorite. The delivery boy had green eyes, partially obscured by lose brown curls, and when her mother wasn’t paying attention, he would sneak a warm grin at Melissa that she could feel in her whole being. She spent her days waiting for the time to pass, when he would come to visit her at night after her mother fell asleep.

It hadn’t always been like this. Her mother’s madness was somehow intertwined with that night Melissa couldn’t remember: the night her father left. It angered her that it was her father’s absence which drove her mother to take her away, to flee the city to this tiny rural nowhere and keep her locked up. If anything, they should have been free, no longer fearing the nights when he would stumble in the doorway, trailing whiskey fumes and rage. That last night was different; it was the only time he’d turned that rage on Melissa. He must have knocked her out because when she awoke, he was gone, and her face was bruised.

Her mother was sobbing in a corner muttering something about curses when Melissa came to. There was a large mallet in her hands that Melissa had never seen before, and jagged chunks of rock littered the floor. Whatever had happened that night had broken her mother and driven her father away for good. Without warning, Melissa found herself pulled out of school and mostly confined to her room, let out only for mealtimes. Her mother declared that she would be homeschooled, and soon after, they packed up to move into this rural hellscape, the only saving grace of which was Peter.

Peter had taken over the delivery duties of his grandfather’s store after the old man couldn’t make the trips anymore. The first time he came to the house, she’d run to her window to watch him leave. She stared, wishing, hoping, willing him to turn around as he opened the door of his truck. And then a miracle happened. He had looked. He had looked, and he had seen Melissa, and he had smiled in that way she felt all over. Afterward, it had become a ritual: her at the window, him looking back and smiling. For months it went on like that until one night, he showed up at night, while her mother was asleep.

The first time, Melissa woke to a light tapping sound. Seeing him through the glass had startled her so much, she’d forgotten to breathe and swooned for a moment. Once she’d recovered, she ran to the open window. It was supposed to be permanently locked, but she’d learned to unlock it with a hoarded butter knife. It could only open a few inches, but that was enough.

“Hi,” he’d whispered. And everything about everything changed.

Peter wanted to know about her. They spoke in hushed voices to each other night after night and held hands through the small opening in the window. She told him about her dad, about her mother’s insanity. He squeezed her fingers while tears ran down her face. He talked about how much he wanted to get out of this town. A plan started to form between them. He promised to get her out.

Another month passed, and they were finally ready to see it through. He’d brought her the pills the night before, and she crushed them up and slipped them into her mother’s food. It only took an hour for the pills to take effect. Melissa sneaked into the dark bedroom, reassured by the soft snores of her mother’s drugged slumber as she approached the bed. Her mother kept the keys to the door safely beneath her pillow. Although Peter promised her that the pills would keep a person asleep through just about anything, Melissa couldn’t help making her breath quiet and shallow as she carefully slid her hand underneath the pillow.

The tips of her fingers brushed the keys, and she hooked a finger around the ring, shaking now, as she tried to pull them out from the weight of her mother’s head. Suddenly, there was a loud snore, followed by silence. Melissa’s breath caught, and she snapped her eyes to her mother’s face as the rest of her body froze. Eyes still closed, her mother turned in her sleep, moving further to the other side of the pillow. Trembling, Melissa slid the keys the rest of the way out, and quietly darted from the room. It was time to go meet Peter.

She grabbed her bag and unlocked the door. Then, for the first time in three years, she stepped out of the house on her own. The night air was cool and exhilarating. For a moment, she stood, taking a deep breath, savoring it. Then she ran. The sensation was unfamiliar at this point, but it was thrilling, racing down the path past the trees until she saw Peter’s truck. He was sitting in the bed, swinging his legs off the edge. When he saw her coming toward him, he waved and grinned big enough to light up the night.

Out of breath, Melissa jogged up to the truck and tossed her bag in the bed. “Let’s get going,” she panted.

Peter smiled again, easygoing, and held out a hand. “Come on up for a bit. It’s a beautiful night. We can enjoy it for a few minutes.”

“But my mother—”

“I promise, if she took those pills, she’s done for the night. Just a few minutes before we take off.” He wiggled his hand in encouragement. Melissa bit her lip, trying not to blush as she took his hand and hopped up into the back of the truck next to him. “See?’ he said, “It’s nice.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. Her breath caught. She felt giddy, turning her head to face him.

“I—” she started. Then he was kissing her lips. It was soft, and it made the blood rush to her face. It was her first kiss. When they separated, she licked her lips and tried to speak again, but then he was back, kissing her more deeply, his tongue filling her moth. It was overwhelming, all this at once, and she yanked back. “We should go,” she said.

“Come on,” he said, moving closer, crowding her against the wall of the truck bed. “I’ve been wanting this for so long. To be near you like this, and to touch you.” He moved in again and locked his arm around her waist, holding her. She pushed at his shoulders.

“No!” she cried, and he grabbed her again and wrestled her to her back. His eyes were not warm anymore but threatening and determined. Melissa’s breath quickened, and her vision began to blur like she was going to faint. She heard a hissing sound, vague and soft, then growing stronger. There was a tingle at her scalp, and she felt movement around her head. Suddenly, Peter jumped away, scrambling to the edge of the truck.

“What the fuck?” he shrieked.

Melissa rose, her hair writhing, hissing, wild around her face. Memories came surging back to her. Her father’s fist connecting with her face, the way the bulk of his body obscured her vision as he continued to advance on her, her mother’s screams. She heard the hissing then too, and hair growing and morphing and squirming into dozens of furious, seething serpents.

Peter’s cries were echoing her father’s in her head. White filled her vision in the moment as in her memories, and the screams, past and present, abruptly ended. Melissa brought herself back fully into the present and gazed down at the stone statue huddled in the corner of the truck bed where Peter used to be, now lifeless and benign. She thought of her mother’s rantings about curses.

This was why she got locked away. Melissa had so generously thought her mother’s crazed actions had been brought about by a need to protect her from the world, from the cruelty they’d finally escaped. But that hadn’t been it at all. It was the world her mother was protecting, protecting from her monstrous daughter. There was a faint hiss in the air as a cold rage began to consume Melissa, this time calculated and controlled. Something glinted in the moonlight near the stone man that was once Peter. The keys to the truck. She grabbed them and shoved the statue with her foot. It fell to the ground, its head breaking off on impact. A forked snake tongue flickered against her cheek reassuringly.

Melissa walked to the edge of the truck and jumped down and surveyed the scene. Her eyes moved over the beheaded remains of Peter and down the trail that led back to her house where her mother still slept. Her mother who imprisoned her to protect them. She spat on the ground. As she drove away, into the world, Melissa smiled to herself.

Who will protect you now?

Emleigh Wolf (she/her) is always trying to find ways to channel her weird erratic thoughts into something creative and productive. She’s been a comedian, a playwright, a zombie at a laser tag arena, and many other things. Currently, she’s a student at Hunter College in New York City majoring in psychology and feeling super fucking old compared to her classmates, many of whom are almost two decades younger. Find her on twitter at @emleighwolf